


With a Side of Sparkles

by authoressnebula (authoressjean)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And Dean is not here for it, Crack, Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Dean Winchester is So Done, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Obscene amounts of glitter, Sam Winchester is So Done, Sparkly fairy wings, The Impala is bewitched, The monkey would also like to be done, There is also a monkey, This is pure crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-26 17:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20030320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressnebula
Summary: The Impala gets cursed with bright, sparkly wings. Sam is sympathetic to the car's plight. There is a monkey running loose. Dean is not okay with any of it. (Except the monkey, he doesn't really care one way or another.)





	With a Side of Sparkles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [umbralillium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbralillium/gifts).

> Reposted from LiveJournal. Still not sure what I was on. This is absolutely Umbralillium's fault. Again.

What _was_ it with witches and hexes and curses and the whole damn witch thing?  
  
She was one of those young, teen witches too. Hormonal flares had made her magic seriously dangerous, and after having been dumped quite publicly and embarrassingly, Shannon had gone on a cursing spree that had, so far, not killed anyone. But two cheerleaders were in the hospital with a blue skin complexion that looked like a paintball game gone awry, and the guy who'd rejected her was still very much a monkey. In all literal senses of the word.  
  
Except when Sam and Dean had tried to intervene, tried to talk to her, well...  
  
Dean ducked behind another crate when the one he was currently hiding behind started disintegrating. “Sonuva-” he cursed, only to have _that_ crate disappear. There were two more to hide behind in the garage, but really, this whole cat and mouse game was getting old. Time to face the music. Or, in this case, a pissed off Sabrina the Teenage Witch. This version wasn't as funny as the sitcom had been.  
  
“Where's your boyfriend now?” Shannon sneered with the open hostility of a teenager. “Or doesn't he care about you?”  
  
“My _brother_ is busy,” Dean told her, annoyed. Very busy: Sam was quickly destroying her altar of power, otherwise disguised as her Edward Cullen fan collection of pictures and memorabilia. Actually, he wasn't sure if she'd tried to disguise it or if she'd just decided that was a great place to start her magic. Either way, it had to go. “Shannon, listen to me, okay? It doesn't have to be this way. You got everyone who pissed you off. They've all paid for what they did to you.”  
  
On a dime Shannon went from angry to almost sobbing. “They...they _ruined_ my social life!” she hiccuped. “They _killed_ it! _Why_ can't anyone _understand_, like, how valuable that is!”  
  
Oh, Dean really wished he'd been the one to take care of the altar and Sam was the one talking to her. Unfortunately, she'd latched onto Dean, and was refusing to listen to or talk to Sam at all. Might've had something to do with the fact that Sam kinda looked like the old boyfriend who'd, well, started the whole thing. The boyfriend who was now currently bouncing in the corner, making upset ape noises.  
  
“I know they did,” Dean soothed, or tried to. He didn't exactly know how to sound soothing. That was more Sam's gig. Maybe it was the fact that Sam always bought those supposedly smooth, shiny shampoos. Maybe it made him more smooth and soothing.  
  
Or maybe Dean _really_ didn't know what the hell to say.  
  
Talking out of his ass. He could do that. He was really good at that. “Shannon, you won. The whole school knows it, knows that what they did was wrong.”  
  
Shannon went from crying to suddenly very, very quiet. Dean didn't like quiet.  
  
“They don't,” she said, voice soft and dangerous. “The whole school _doesn't_ know. It's not like I can parade Melvin in the corner into school and have them know it's him, or _do_ something that they'll see that's completely out of the norm. No, they need to know that I'm capable of handling myself, that I'm better than Mindy and Susie. Something..._shining_. Something radiant and magical.”  
  
Oh god. Given her Cullen favoritism, Dean was fairly certain whatever it was would involve a ton of glitter. “Shannon, no,” he said, quietly but firmly. He'd been told countless amounts of times that that was how you handled a situation with a kid. It hadn't ever worked on Sam, but he'd still tried it.  
  
It wasn't working on Shannon either. “I like fairies,” she said, and her eyes lit up. “Everyone knows that. They're, like, all over my locker. And my backpack. I'm the magical fairy girl, so this way, they'll know!” She rubbed her hands together gleefully.  
  
From the back of the garage, Melvin the Monkey was starting to screech warning sounds. “Yeah, I hear ya,” Dean muttered in his general direction. C'mon Sam, deal with the altar already!  
  
Shannon closed her eyes and clenched her hands into fists. They began to crackle and sparkle, and Dean watched, horrified, as a _butterfly_ flew out of one of her palms. Shit.  
  
When he looked back up at her face, her eyes were open, and she was outright beaming. “Clap your hands if you believe!” she said, right before she clapped them once.  
  
Lightning shot up from her palms to the roof, where it jumped out and through the door, going who knew where and doing god knew what. “Cool!” she said, then clapped her hands again.  
  
Nothing happened. Even when Shannon frowned and clapped once more, nothing happened. Dean gave a sigh with relief and slid to his knees on the floor. Thank god.  
  
Shannon looked like she was going to go back to crying. “It's okay,” Dean told her. “It's all gonna be okay now, all right? Get a Mybook and talk trash about people instead of magic next time, okay?”  
  
She wrinkled her nose at him just as Sam hurried into the room. “God, it's MySpace, which is ancient, and Facebook, which is not. You're like, so outdated.” Then she turned and stalked out of the garage, Melvin the Monkey trailing behind her unhappily.  
  
Dean turned to Sam, glaring. “The hell took you so long?”  
  
“Lot of Edward Cullen pictures,” Sam said, but he looked pale. Really pale, and very nervous. “Um, what did she do?”  
  
Images of the town covered in glitter flew through Dean's brain, and he remembered the last spell she'd done. “Oh god, what happened?” Dean said.  
  
“Oh. My. _God_.”  
  
Shannon's own, shocked voice had him darting for the doors, even when Sam tried to call him back. He braced himself for the worst, for an apocalypse of Edward Cullen zombies and glitter choking the entire planet.  
  
What he found was worse.  
  
  
  
“She said she was sorry, and Bobby said it shouldn't last more than a week.”  
  
Dean glared at the dashboard. “I feel violated.”  
  
“Just...look, we'll lay low for awhile, okay? It'll wear off,” Sam tried to tell him. Ever the peacemaker.  
  
Right. Because his car wasn't the one with _wings_.  
  
Huge, glittery, rainbow wings. They were shimmery and translucent, but god help him they were still very much there. They bent and twirled in the wind like satin sheets, but flapped like no one's business when he gunned the engine.  
  
Which meant they were stuck like that for the near future. Which meant _they_ were stuck in the town with a monkey, two blue cheerleaders, and a very apologetic had-been witch. She'd let them park it behind her parents' garage, out of sight of everyone in the middle of the country.  
  
Sam sighed. “Are you seriously going to sit out here for the rest of the week until they wear off? It might not even _take_ a week, Dean. One of the cheerleaders is clearing up already.”  
  
“Yeah, well, Smurfette's still cute,” Dean snapped. “That's an iconic figure. But this? What the hell is _this_, Sam?”  
  
One of the wings suddenly flapped viciously, and both of them held onto the dashboard as the car dangerously lifted to one side, only to slowly lower back down as the wing got a hold of itself. That was the other problem: they didn't always respond with the car. They'd do weird crap like that, and then Dean was left glaring at the dashboard.  
  
Like now.  
  
“Maybe...” Sam bit his lip. “Maybe they just need to...stretch their...wings?”  
  
Dean slowly swiveled his head around until he was able to give Sam the full measure of his glare. “Are you seriously suggesting what I think you're suggesting?” he asked, voice low.  
  
Sam finally nodded. “Yeah, Dean, I am. I think the wings are restless.”  
  
“And taking them out into the public is a good idea _how_ in your book?”  
  
“At night,” Sam amended. “Let's take them out tonight and let them, y'know, flap themselves tired.” He made a face like he'd sucked on something sour. “I miss the days where 'this killer truck' started the conversations,” he said with a wistful sigh.  
  
Dean said nothing, but he watched as one of the wings twitched carefully, shaking glitter into the breeze and, thus, all over the side of his car. He let out a long sigh and let his head rest on the steering wheel.  
  
His baby did _not_ deserve this.  
  
  
  
At one in the morning, Dean finally, slowly, very carefully moved forward to take the car out onto one of the paved country roads. Route 313 was long, straight, and best of all, completely empty.  
  
“You get _one_ run,” Dean growled at the wings before taking his seat and slamming the door shut. The wings shuddered at the strength behind it, and Sam sighed from the passenger seat.  
  
“That wasn't nice, Dean.”  
  
Dean whipped his head around to where Sam was looking at him..._disapprovingly_? “Excuse me?”  
  
“I think you scared them.”  
  
Oh dear god _no_. “Did you get glitter in your brain or something? They're just wings, Sam!”  
  
Sam honestly looked _hurt_ on their behalf. “Look, just...they won't be here long, you could stand to be nice to them.”  
  
Holy mother of mayo. “Definitely glitter in your brain,” Dean muttered, before he edged the car forward. The wings shimmered in the slight moonlight, and they almost seemed to bounce in anticipation. Dean let out a sigh but let the accelerator head towards the floor.  
  
By the time they were hitting 80 miles an hour, Dean felt better about the whole thing. He couldn't see the wings at all, and he was cruising down a road during good weather. He reached for the radio and cranked it to full volume.  
  
Something very _not_ Metallica came through the speakers, making both of them wince and move to shut it off. “Sam, did you take my tape out?”  
  
“God, no,” Sam said, sounding as horrified as Dean did. “What _was_ that?”  
  
The tune sounded familiar, and Dean, wincing, moved to turn the volume back up a little. It sounded like pop. It had a young girl's voice crooning about her baby. It screamed...  
  
It screamed glittery girls and rainbow wings, that's what it screamed. Dean reached to put a tape in the deck before he realized there _was_ a tape in the deck. Horror mounting, he ejected the tape and grabbed it to see. Sam cursed rapidly and grabbed for the wheel to keep them on the road while Dean stared down at his cassette.  
  
His _Master of Puppets_ cassette now read _Baby by Justin Bieber_. Dean choked on his next breath and let it out with something that sounded like a whimper.  
  
“Dean, the wheel! I can't hold the wheel at this position!” Sam yelled.  
  
“Let it go,” Dean whispered morosely. Let the car crash, he didn't care. His life was over.  
  
His cassette had been turned into a boy whose voice had yet to mature, and his car had sparkly wings that his brother was emotionally bonding with.  
  
Yeah, his life was officially over.  
  
  
  
After the disaster that was the night-time expedition, Dean didn't look at his baby for three days, instead moping around the motel room and walking everywhere. One of the cheerleaders was completely out of the hospital, and the other was clearing up equally as fast. Melvin the Monkey had disappeared sometime in the night, though people had sworn they'd seen a random monkey wandering around the zoo.  
  
Finally Sam approached his brother with a no-nonsense look on his face that Dean usually didn't like. “We're taking a drive,” Sam said. Yup, Dean didn't like this one.  
  
“I'm not going anywhere _near_ that thing until everything's gone back to the way it should be,” Dean insisted. “I'll stay right here and watch...” He wrinkled his nose up in disgust at the television show regarding young vampires and their teenage lovers. God.  
  
“Yeah, fascinating,” Sam drawled. He let out a sigh and crossed his arms. “Look, you can't treat her like this. It's not her fault she got hexed, is it? She just happened to be parked outside the garage when Shannon's spell got loose. Think of it this way: she really sacrificed herself for the cause. It could've been the town, but instead, it was her. She parked herself in harm's way and took the blow, and what are you doing? You're abandoning her in her time of need.”  
  
Dean sniffled. Sam tried not to look as affected by his own words. “She needs you,” he added gently. “Just take her out for a spin. Show her how much you still love her, okay? Once the wings are gone then you can wash her up and apply a fresh wax but right now, since you can't do that without cementing glitter into her coat, just love her the best way you can, okay? Can you do that, Dean?”  
  
Dean swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Yeah, okay,” he whispered. He scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and stood up resolutely. His baby needed him: Sam was right.  
  
Sam smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man,” he said, handing Dean the keys to the Impala.  
  
The bus dropped them off right in front of Shannon's house, and together they headed around back. The wings were drooping on the ground, and Dean could've sworn the headlights were slumped, like his baby was trying not to cry. It made him feel even more like an ass. “Hey baby,” he said, trying on a smile.  
  
The wings immediately perked up and flapped happily, sending glitter into the air just as a fresh breeze flew towards them. Dean shut his eyes tight as glitter assailed every part of his body, from head to toe. When the breeze died down he dared to open his eyes. The wings still looked every bit happy as a puppy.  
  
Sam sneezed beside him, and when he shook, glitter and sparkles rained from his hair. “Want to see if we can borrow Shannon's shower before we take the car out?” he asked a minute later.  
  
“Friggin' _witches_,” Dean muttered, already stalking off towards the house. A rain of glitter followed behind him as he went.  
  
  
  
Later that night, the Impala went back out onto the road. The wings had been sternly talked to, and this time, the quiet but firm 'no' had actually worked, and they were attempting to control their flapping. Wonders never ceased.  
  
Dean didn't attempt the radio or his cassettes. Not until the hex was over. He had high hopes that it'd be soon, though. Everything except the monkey seemed to have cleared up. Until then, he was able to roll down his window and race through the night.  
  
Until the siren and flashing light behind him made him stop though.  
  
Dean cursed a blue streak. “It's okay,” Sam tried to say, though he sounded as thrilled as Dean did. “Just...slow down. I don't think you have to pull over, since there's no one else out here.”  
  
“Yeah, no one but the cop waiting all night with a speed trap,” Dean muttered. Last thing they needed was a speeding ticket on top of the-  
  
Dean nearly swallowed his tongue. The wings. Oh god the _wings_. “Dean?” Sam asked, perplexed at the sudden change of expression.  
  
“Wings,” Dean wheezed out, and it was Sam's turn to look terrified. The stupid wings. How the hell was he supposed to explain that? The cop was getting closer, close enough that the wings were going to be visible, no matter how sheer they appeared, and if the cloud moved past the moon and let more light through they were _screwed_.  
  
And then all of a sudden, they were flying.  
  
Sam gasped and grabbed at the door handle and the back of the seat, leaving Dean to clutch the steering wheel. “Woah, woah, easy ladies,” Dean called out through the windows, but nope, didn't matter. They were quickly flying straight up into the night sky, and when Dean dared to look out his window, he watched as the cop kept sailing along only to slam on his brakes when the car he'd been tailing disappeared.  
  
The wings hummed happily, seemingly having no trouble keeping the car and its passengers up. Higher and higher they went until Sam was hyperventilating. “Dean,” he managed through clenched teeth.  
  
“All right guys, take us back down,” Dean said in a straight, calm voice. The height wasn't doing him any favors either, even though watching Sam freak out was generally one of his favorite things to do.  
  
Slowly they came back down until they were back on the road. For some reason they were facing the other way now – not that Dean had really been paying attention to anything besides the steering wheel in front of him – and as soon as the wheel connected with the pavement Dean floored it. The engine growled and the wings flew back like happy dog ears in the wind.  
  
Once they were back near Shannon's, Dean guided the car off the road and stopped it on the grass. For a minute, neither of them said anything.  
  
Dean cleared his throat. “Guess they're not all that bad, after all.”  
  
The wings twitched in agreement.  
  
  
  
It all happened in a rush.  
  
The second cheerleader was released from the hospital. A naked teenage boy was found in the monkey's exhibit at the zoo, and suddenly the Impala was wingless again.  
  
Dean stared at his car behind Shannon's garage. Nothing glittery or sparkly at all. When he checked the cassettes, no Justin Bieber was to be found. It was all good.  
  
Really.  
  
“I'm super sorry,” Shannon was saying as she came out of the house, followed by Sam who was carrying what looked like a fruit basket. “I heard that Mindy and Susie were out and, well, Melvin got found, so it's all good, right?”  
  
“Just...don't mess with magic again,” Sam said, and somehow he managed the quiet but firm voice. Even worse, Shannon was nodding sadly but genuinely. Dammit, it wasn't fair.  
  
After a wave goodbye, she headed back inside, leaving Dean with his brother, a basket, and the car. The normal car. He stared at her sleek black paint and remembered glitter covering the sides. There was no prism-like sparkle from the sides anymore, either.  
  
“You miss them, don't you?” Sam asked, sounding smug.  
  
“Shut up, bitch. They were useful. Once.” Dean glared at his brother, daring him to say anything else, before he glanced at the basket Sam was holding. “Is that...beer?”  
  
“Yeah, she used one of her fake identities to get it,” Sam said, before frowning. “Somehow, I don't think going from magic to making illegal purchases is at all a step in the right direction.”  
  
“Take the win, Sammy, take the win,” Dean said with a sigh. He snagged one of the beers before heading into the driver's seat. The car started up with a rumble, and Metallica screamed through the speakers. All was right with his world. Once Sam was in, and the beer was secured on the seat, Dean headed off for the road.  
  
And completely missed the glitter shooting out of his exhaust pipe.  
  
END


End file.
